


Fair Exchange

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [88]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anomaly appears at the wrong time in the wrong place and the response team has to contend with a riot to reach their goal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Exchange

A pall of dark smoke hung in the air, partially masking a dull orange glow in the sky.

Abby could hear the sound of sirens in the distance but other than that the night was strangely silent, which was surprising in view of that they were on the edge of a riot.

Cars had been pulled over to the side of the road and drivers were being turned back from a hastily-erected police cordon. No one was being allowed into the area, whether they lived there, or had relatives or businesses there. According to what she’d heard on the radio, the trouble had broken out after the police had arrested a couple of drugs dealers and then, seemingly without warning, riots had broken out all over south London and were even springing up like bush fires outside the capital, some in the unlikeliest places.

She shivered and pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. Abby hated violence in all its forms – the legacy of a childhood spent dodging the fists and feet of a succession of drunken men who’d come and gone in her life, all leaving behind their own imprint on her, and none of it in a good way. The thought that only half a mile ahead, gangs were busy looting shops and setting fire to what they couldn’t carry off, not caring who got hurt or even killed, sickened her. She’d heard reports of fire crews coming under attack and people being hurt for doing nothing more than trying to protect their own property, but ambulances were being held back out of the danger zone as police refused to let the paramedics into before they had been able to restore some semblance of order.

The only person out of the ARC vehicles at the moment was Ryan. He was at the side of the road talking to a police officer dressed in full riot gear. The man was holding a tall shield made of some sort of transparent material and she could see that he had what looked unpleasantly like a short barrelled sub-machine gun held across his chest. The visor of his black helmet was pushed back and he looked no more than thirty, but he had the same air of calm competence about him that she’d come to recognise from close association with their own Special Forces support.

The man gestured with his shield at the cordon and shook his head. Ryan simply kept on talking. A look of barely-concealed surprise crossed the man’s face. He glanced over at the ARC vehicles and in that moment, Abby knew Ryan had got his own way.

“The boss don’t usually take no for an answer,” Finn said, with the same quite pride all the men took in their officers.

Despite the situation, Abby grinned. She knew what Finn meant. If any of the officers attached to the anomaly project were set on any given course of action, then she’d back them against any odds to get their own way, and in this case, it looked like Ryan had just made it plain that – riot or not – he had a job to do.

There was an anomaly half a mile away. The fact that it was in the middle of the largest civil unrest the country had seen for a decade was simply unfortunate. The fact remained that they had to get in there, find it, set up a cordon around it and stop anything coming through. And if anything had done, it was their job to find it and send it back.

Ryan walked quickly back to the waiting vehicles. “He doesn’t like it, but we’re going in. The Territorial Support Group is out in force, but they’ve been told not to inflame the situation.” Ryan met Cutter’s eyes. “That means we’re on our own in there, Professor. While I was talking to Sergeant McKinley, I had Lester on the radio. He’s trying to get the PM’s agreement to call out the Counter-Terrorism squad to back us up, but the PM doesn’t want to be seen to be using soldiers against civilians. They’re still arguing about it, but I’m not holding my breath.”

Abby knew from things she’d heard from Joel Stringer that a squadron from the SAS was on standby in the capital at all times to respond to major terrorist incidents, and it was clearly a measure of Lester’s concern for the current situation that he was trying to call in that level of back-up.

“Abby, lass,” Cutter began, “there’s no way I’m taking…”

She held her hand up to cut him off. “Don’t even think it, Cutter. I’m the animal handler on this team. I’m going in, same as everyone else. You’re not ‘taking’ me anywhere, I’m going of my own accord.”

A look of uncertainty crossed Cutter’s face, but she was pleased that he knew her well enough not to argue.

“Stay in the vehicles and stay together,” Ryan ordered. “If we come under attack, keep moving. We keep to the back streets as much as we can and we don’t get involved in anything other than doing our job.” Ryan’s grey eyes were flint hard. He didn’t like what they were about to do one little bit, but they had an anomaly that needed to be contained, so he didn’t have to like it, he just had to do his job. “Remember, stay in the vehicles and stay together.”

* * * * *

Ten minutes later, Abby was on foot, by herself, in the middle of a riot.

Like most plans, theirs hadn’t survived first contact with the enemy. In this case the enemy had consisted of a mob mostly wearing hoodies, with scarves tied around their faces, throwing bricks, petrol bombs and anything else that came to hand. The first vehicle had managed to forge its way through the rioters but then the mob had closed behind it, forming a solid press of bodies that stopped them moving forwards. The only thing in their favour at the moment was that the ARC Range Rovers now all had bullet-proof glass in the windows, intended to provide some protection against the various prehistoric creatures that they encountered with monotonous regularity. The toughened glass had kept them safe from the various projectiles that had rained down around them.

A glass bottle had shattered on the windscreen of Abby’s vehicle, raining fire. Blade had sworn under his breath and tried to move forwards as the crowd jumped out of the way of the firebomb, giving them some much needed clear air in front. The only problem was that for a moment, they’d lost visibility, and a second later a recklessly-driven car had crashed into them, bringing their progress to an abrupt halt.

Abby had jerked against her seat belt, feeling it drive the breath from her body and moments later, she’d heard a whoop from the crowd surrounding them and the Range Rover had started being rocked from side to side. The doors were locked, but that illusion of safety had been rapidly stripped away. She’d heard the rasp of metal on metal and suddenly her door had been opened, a knife had flashed in the yellow light of a street lamp, cutting through her seat belt and with brutal suddenness, she’d been dragged from the vehicle.

Around her, violence erupted with frightening rapidity. Abby had kicked out at the men nearest to her, catching one of them between the legs before she stamped down hard with one booted foot against someone’s shin and struck out with the heel of her hand against an attacker’s chin in a move that her Special Forces boyfriend assured her was far better that hitting anyone with a clenched fist. Joel had been right. The man had been knocked backwards onto the bonnet of the car that had rammed into the front of the Range Rover.

She’d twisted away from her attackers and bolted into the darkness of a nearby alley.

She now watched in horror as sudden press of bodies surrounded the stricken Range Rover. She’d been travelling with Connor, accompanied by Blade, Kermit and Finn, while Cutter and Stephen had been in the other vehicle with Ryan, Fiver and Fizz.

“Abby!” The voice was Finn’s and it was coming from her radio earpiece. “Are you all right?” He sounded like someone who was sitting with his feet up in the rec room rather than fighting for his life in the middle of complete chaos.

“I’m in the alley,” she said quietly.

“Get further away,” he ordered. “I’ll come after you.”

“What about Connor?” she demanded, doing her best to match his calm tone.

“Blade and Kermit are extracting him. Just worry about yourself. I’ll be with you in a minute, now get the hell away from here and if you have to, just pretend to be one of them.”

Abby had worked with the soldiers long enough to know when to take orders without question. And that was one of those times. She pulled her scarf up around her face, using it to cover the radio earpiece, and hoping that if push came to shove she could pass muster as a rioter.

Behind her, the alley seemed to be empty. Abby groped on the ground for anything to use as a weapon. A brick as all she could find, so that would just have to do. She checked around her, saw no one coming after her, and legged it.

* * * * *

As she ran, she could hear voices over the radio: Ryan demanding a sit rep, and Blade and Finn replying in turn. Cutter and Stephen knew, as she did, to stay off air when the soldiers were doing their job. She heard a gasp that sounded like it had come from Connor, but then he was silent.

Abby pressed herself back against a gate, her heart hammering uncomfortably in her chest. The brick was still clutched in one hand, but with the other, Abby pulled out the hand-held anomaly that every member of the team now carried. The screen showed where she was in relation to her objective. She was no more than 500 metres away from it down a network of back alleys behind a parade of shops. The way there by road was a lot further.

“Finn, I’ve got a clear route to the anomaly,” she said. “Follow me if you can.”

Without waiting for a reply, Abby started to follow the route shown on the brightly lit screen, doing her best to focus on that and not on the sounds and smells of a suburb exploding around her into violent ruin. The information she was receiving through her earpiece told her that Ryan’s vehicle was still making forward progress and had managed to avoid the fate of the Range Rover she’d been in. That was something, at least.

She moved quickly in the darkness, skirting piles of rubbish in the alley. Ahead, she saw a small group of teenagers trying to climb over a wall. One of them saw her coming and turned to face her. He couldn’t have been older than fourteen, but he had a knife in his hands and his eyes were wide with adrenaline.

“Anything worth ‘avin’?” Abby demanded, hefting the brick in her hand.

“Mobile phones, innit,” the boy told her.

The teenager turned away and scrambled up the wall, not taking any notice of what she was doing. Abby ignored the boys and carried on. The alley she was following crossed a road and she moved cautiously across it. She could see looters down one end of the road, laden with electrical goods they’d grabbed from the shops they’d been looting, faced with what looked like a line of riot police advancing towards them. Abby dived across the road, describing to Finn where she was going.

“On my way,” he told her.

Staying away from the main streets was a good thing, judging by the noises she could hear. Sirens were blaring out nearby, but they were almost drowned out by the sound of yells and cat-calls from the rioters, accompanied by the steady thump of missiles hitting their targets and the sound of breaking glass.

Ahead of her, Abby could see four figures, hoodies drawn around their heads, kicking at something on the ground. Abby’s stomach lurched unpleasantly. Her first thought was that they were laying into an animal, maybe a dog, then she heard the words, “Fucking ugly bitch!”

Without stopping to think, Abby drew back her arm and threw the brick. It hit one of the hooded figures on the shoulder. She launched herself at them, pivoting on one foot, striking out hard and fast in one of her kick-boxing moves. Her foot caught one of the men on the side of his head and he dropped like a stone, but the others turned to face her and she could see that two of them had knives in their hands.

She wheeled away, knowing that the odds weren’t good, but on the ground at the men’s feet, she could see a huddled figure that looked like a human being. There was no way Abby was going to leave anyone at the mercy of these thugs.

“Go left,” said Finn’s voice in her ear.

She did exactly that.

Finn moved past her. Abby expected to see a gun in his hand, but to her surprise, the soldier had not drawn a weapon. Not that it mattered. In a matter of seconds, he’d disarmed one of the men by grabbing his wrist, pulling him forwards and down, snapping his arm like a matchstick. With a howl of pain, the man fell to his knees. The second man hesitated for a fatal second. Finn caught hold of his arm, yanked the man off balance and drove his knee upwards with sickening force into the man’s groin. The knife fell to the ground. The third man, the one Abby had hit with the brick took one look at what had happened to his companions and scarpered without a backwards glance. The one she’d kicked had rolled onto his knees and was looking dazed.

Finn pulled something out of his tac vest, roughly hauled one man’s arms behind his back, and fastened them together at the wrists.

“Cable ties,” he said to Abby, before shoving the man hard. “Fuck off!”

The second man screamed in pain as Finn grabbed his wrists, heedless of the clearly broken arm and did the same to him. A kick up the arse sent the man staggering on his way, screaming in pain. The other two were dispatched the same way. In that state they weren’t going to be able to cause much trouble.

Abby dropped to her knees on the ground. The victim of the attack was curled up tightly, arms drawn up around their head. Abby wondered at first if the men had been attacking some sort of monkey had come through the anomaly, but when she laid her hand on the creature’s arm, she could feel only a very light covering of. At her touch, the figure unfolded slightly and she found herself looking into a pair of surprisingly human dark eyes, set beneath strong brow ridges that dominated a face set rigid in a rictus of fear.

Abby sat back on her heels in shock.

The brow ridges told her all she needed to know, but if that wasn’t enough, the receding chin clinched the matter.

“Oh fuck,” Finn breathed.

Abby glanced up at him. Oh fuck just about summed it up. Finn clearly hadn’t spent all of Cutter’s lectures asleep.

The men had been kicking the living daylights out of a young Neanderthal woman.

Abby took the girl’s hand in hers and stroked it gently. “You’re safe now,” she said, knowing that the words themselves would be meaningless, but hoping that something in her tone of voice would be understood.

The girl stared at her, eyes wide and frightened.

“We need to get her back through the anomaly,” Abby said.

Finn nodded. Gone was the jokey young soldier that she knew so well. In his place was a hard-eyed professional, trained to kill without a thought and to face death without concern for himself. In spite of the fact that a large area of London was in the grip of collective insanity, Abby knew with an unshakeable certainty that she was going to come though this safely. The look on Finn’s face told her that anything else was simply unthinkable and she remembered something that Joel had once told her. It took approximately one million pounds to train a Special Forces soldier and she knew that every penny of that was money well spent.

“Is she OK?” Finn asked, raking his gaze over the traumatised woman.

“I hope so,” Abby said quietly.

She would have done her best for any creature in distress, but this was more than that. This was a potential ancestor of hers. There were those academics who claimed that the Neanderthals had been an evolutionary dead end, but that school of thought didn’t take account of the fact that billions of humans shared a proportion of Neanderthal DNA, proving that at some point Neanderthals had interbred with Cro-Magnon man, leaving behind a lasting legacy of their kind.

Abby had worked with Cutter for long enough to understand that it was vital to return as many creatures as they could to their own time unharmed, but in this case it was even more important. For all she knew, this terrified individual could be the one who’s DNA she carried, and if this girl didn’t return to her own time, who knew what the consequences might be.

A shiver ran down Abby’s spine.

She squeezed the girl’s hand and urged her to her feet. The girl uncurled herself from the floor and Abby saw that she was wearing a rough garment of animal hide and had a necklace of what looked like shells strung on a thin cord around her neck. She had a smear of blood on one cheek and a swollen, bloodied lip. Abby produced a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away the blood. The girl whimpered quietly and Abby started talking to her as she would have done to a frightened animal, but in the full knowledge that this girl was far more than an animal.

“You can trust me, I’m not going to hurt you.” She dabbed the hanky at the girl’s split lip.

Abby had seen reconstructions of what Neanderthal’s might have looked like, but nothing had prepared her for the reality of meeting one. The man she’d hit with the brick had called the girl ugly, but that was very far from the truth. She had large, dark eyes, high cheekbones and hair that had been twisted into something that resembled cornrow braids. The tunic she was wearing was fashioned from animal hide, the leather worked until it was soft and supple, with the skin side turned inwards and she had furs bound around her feet.

The girl tried to pull away from her but Abby kept up the gentle pressure on her hand and the string of words as Finn spoke urgently into his radio.

“Boss, I’m with Abby. Someth…someone’s come through the anomaly. She might be injured, we’re not sure…. No, not Abby, she’s fine. Boss, you’d better tell the Prof that we think we’ve got a real live Neanderthal. Some little shits were laying into her, so we need to get her out of here asap.” Finn broke off his report with the word, “Shit.” That single word was delivered quietly, but with feeling.

A crowd had appeared at one end of the alley. From the mutterings Abby could hear, it seemed that they’d mistaken Finn for a police officer, presumably confusing his black uniform with those of the riot control officers. One copper and two women was clearly their sort of odds. One of them was carrying a round shield he’d picked up in the melee. They advanced forward in a zombie-like shuffle, reminding Abby of the opponents Connor often went up against in his beloved computer games.

“Keep her with you,” Finn told her. “We can’t afford to lose her. Anyone a bit different’s going to get a right kicking from this lot. I’m going to take a couple down hard and hope it puts the shits up the rest.”

“Finn, there’s at least ten of them,” Abby said, trying hard to keep her voice under control.

“Yeah, looks that way,” he agreed cheerfully, reminding Abby again that the young soldier had worked in some of the darkest corners of the world, but despite his confidence, she knew full well that a mob could still take down a superior opponent by sheer force of numbers.

While the looters were still staring at them, Finn moved into action with a frightening mixture of fluid grace and devastating force. Two men dropped to the ground immediately and didn’t get up again. Another was smashed face first into a wall, and a third reeled backwards, his nose a bloody ruin above the scarf wound around his face. The man let out a high pitched scream, abruptly cut off as Finn’s fist slammed into his stomach.

One of the men had the presence of mind to throw a punch. It even connected with the side of Finn’s head, but all the soldier did was pivot from the hip and drive an elbow hard into the man’s chest, taking him in the solar plexus. He crumpled to the ground and Finn stamped hard on his wrist. The Special Forces soldier was playing for keeps in this scenario, but had so far refrained from drawing any sort of weapon. His job was one of protection and Abby knew that the anomaly project couldn’t afford to get involved in any sort of row over the use of deadly force on civilians, no matter what the provocation.

Abby dragged her eyes away from the fight and tried to check if the Neanderthal girl had been injured by the fists and boots of her attackers. As far as she could tell from a rapid examination, apart from some bruises and cuts on her arms – classic defensive injuries – the girl had escaped major damage. If they could get her back to the anomaly no doubt her own people would be able to look after her.

On the radio feed in her ear, Abby heard Ryan demanding to know where Finn was and what his ETA was at the anomaly.

“He’s a bit busy at the moment,” she said quietly. “Have you got to the anomaly?”

“Yes, but it’s right behind a burning building,” Ryan told her. “Stephen’s looking for tracks. Do you think there might be more of them?”

“No idea,” Abby said, and she also had no idea how to frame a question like that. She didn’t even know if the girl was capable of verbal communication. Again that was an area researchers hadn’t seemed able to agree on.

She slipped her arm around the girl’s waist and held her close. Her companion made no move to pull away and Abby thought that she might even be finding the contact comforting.

Several of Finn’s opponents had turned tail and run by now, leaving him facing no more than half a dozen, but two of them were armed with baseball balls and two more had knives. For the first time since the fight had started, Finn drew a weapon of his own, a long-bladed fighting knife strapped to his left thigh, of the type that Blade favoured for combat situations, dropping into the classic stance of a knife-fighter.

The sight of the long blade caused some muttering and one of the attackers suddenly melted away into the night, no doubt in search of easier pickings. But suddenly, one had a bottle in his hand and was flicking a lighter to ignite the rag stuffed into the narrow neck. Abby reacted without thinking. She let go of the girl and surged forward, her right leg extended in a powerful kick that made the man lose his hold on the bottle. It smashed on the ground, showering his legs with petrol. He screamed and dropped the lighter, promptly turning to run as flames leaped up from the ground.

The aborted petrol bomb gave Finn the distraction he needed. He moved in hard and fast, knife angled upwards, blade flashing in the firelight. He swept it in a wide arc in front of him, driving the opposing knifeman backwards. The man misjudged his position and tripped on a low kerb, sprawling backwards with a surprised yell.

Finn brought his size ten boot down hard on the man’s wrist and Abby heard the snap of bone followed by a howl of pain. The two men with baseball bats did their best to take revenge for the damage Finn was inflicting on his attackers. One of them got in a lucky strike on the soldier’s left shoulder and Abby saw a fleeting grimace of pain on Finn’s face before his knife glinted wickedly and was promptly buried in the man’s arm. The resulting scream sounded like an animal in pain. The man dropped the baseball bat and reeled away, clutching his arm

The other thug closed on Finn, the bat swinging hard and fast. At Abby’s side, the Neanderthal girl suddenly exploded into action, lips drawn back over strong teeth, a yell of anger issuing from her mouth in a full throated roar. She knocked the man backwards into a wall, lifting him off his feet with the impact. The look of surprise on his face as he slid down the wall would have been almost comical in other circumstances, but not now, not while they were still fighting for their lives.

The rest of the rioters suddenly melted away in the darkness of the alley. Odds of a dozen to one hadn’t seemed too bad at the beginning, but then they’d started to take casualties and the tide had very definitely turned. Finn picked up the knife that one of the men had dropped and chucked it over a wall, sending the two baseball bats after it.

“On our way now, boss,” he said in answer to a question from Ryan’s.

Abby grabbed the Neanderthal girl’s hand and they started to run. The girl was limping slightly but it didn’t slow her down. The sound of sirens was louder now and she could hear water fizzing onto fire. As they emerged from the partial darkness of the alley into a blaze of light, the girl stopped, pulling back in fear at the sight of the fire and the huge, unfamiliar engines that were sending water jetting out of hoses held by the fire fighters.

The anomaly was in a small loading bay behind a parade of shops, surrounded by large metal dustbins, some of which were also burning as sparks had fallen amongst their over-flowing contents. With relief, Abby saw Connor standing beside one of the fire engines, talking to Cutter. It looked like all the soldiers had made it through and were now intent on making sure none of the rioters got close enough to cause any problems with to the fire fighters or the anomaly response team.

Finn stayed protectively at her side as she kept firm hold on the girl’s hand. Somehow they were going to have to get her back through the anomaly, and that was going to involve getting uncomfortably close to the fire.

Cutter approached cautiously, doing his best not to startle the girl. “You gave us a bit of a fright back there,” he said to Abby, relief written very plainly on his face.

“Scared me a bit, too.” She looked at Ryan and said apologetically, “Sorry, we didn’t do too well at the stay in the vehicle and stay together bit.”

Ryan gave one of his swift grins. “I’ve long given up expecting any of you to do as you’re told.” He turned his head slightly to one side, listening to something on his radio feed, and said, “Stephen? Have you got anything? Abby’s brought in the girl she found.” He listened for a moment and then said, “All right, get back here now. Don’t take any risks.”

“Anything?” Cutter asked as Ryan had been talking to Stephen on a closed channel rather than an open frequency to cut out too much general traffic on the radios.

Ryan shook his head. “It looks like Abby’s friend might be our only visitor. Connor, how stable is that anomaly?”

“I’d give it no more than fifteen minutes, maybe less. It’s already starting to fade.” Connor’s face showed signs of strain, but his voice was steady as he looked down at the measuring device in his hands. His ability to predict the length of time an anomaly would remain open was improving all the time thanks to the research they’d been able to do in the anomaly cluster at Farnley Hall, but the rifts in time were still unpredictable and often caught them unawares.

“We need to get her back through as fast as we can,” Abby said.

“Any suggestions, lass?” Cutter asked.

Abby nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. “I’m going to take her through. There’s no way we can communicate what we want her to do, and the machines are scaring her stiff. I need to get her out of here before she bolts.” She gripped the girl’s hand and tugged her forward, not waiting to give Cutter or Ryan time to object.

Finn took hold of the girl’s other hand and together they urged her into another run. The heat from the burning building was uncomfortably intense, but then they burst through the anomaly into a landscape far removed from the fire and destruction of the riot. They were on the edge of a pine forest and ahead of them a grey limestone cliff rose up out of short, heavily frosted grass. The air was crisp and cool.

The Neanderthal girl stared around her, a look of complete elation on her face.

Finn was grinning from ear to ear, and Abby was smiling broadly as well. They’d done it; they’d got the girl home. At some point on their dash through the alleyways, the cut on the girl’s lip had opened up again and blood was dribbling down at the corner of her mouth. Abby pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket again and dabbed it at the girl’s mouth and then, on impulse, pressed the large cotton square into her hand.

The girl looked at it in surprise and delight. Her brown-fingered hand burrowed into her own clothing and came out holding a piece of beautiful, leaf-shaped flint that just fitted into the palm of her hand. She held it out to Abby in an unmistakeable gesture, and said a few words in a guttural language that reminded Abby of something she’d heard on a documentary about the bushmen of the Kalahari. She just wished they could have more time here, there was so much to learn… but this girl wasn’t a specimen to be studied, she had her life to lead and Abby knew that when she stepped back through the anomaly with Finn, into a world where human beings were still doing their best to tear each other apart, this girl would have been dead for maybe 40,000 years.

Tears welled up in Abby’s eyes, but she kept smiling. She took the flint from the girl and raised it to her lips.

And the hanky she’d handed over was lifted in a similar gesture and then the girl dabbed it to her battered lip as Abby had done. A moment later she turned and ran towards the cliff, still limping, but Abby knew that any harm she had taken would soon fade.

“We need to go, Abby,” Finn said quietly. “The boss won’t be happy if he has to come in after us.”

Abby slipped her hand into Finn’s, and together they sprinted back through the anomaly.

* * * * *

An hour later, packed like sardines into one Range Rover, they drove away from the still-smoking ruins. The riot had started to lose impetus, burning itself out like some of the smaller fires, allowing the police to reclaim most areas from the looters.

Abby was wrapped in a blanket in the back of the vehicle, next to Finn. They’d both got wet from the fire hose as they’d run back through the anomaly to the acrid stench of smoke and burning rubbish rather than the clean air of a long-gone world.

Finn had his arm round her, and she was glad of the contact as the adrenaline rush faded from her system, leaving her feeling cold and slightly sick.

In her pocket, she felt her mobile phone vibrate. She managed to wrestle it out through layers of clothing and the blanket, managing to accidentally elbow Finn in the ribs in the process. The screen flashed one word at her: Joel.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, taking the call, knowing that her boyfriend would have been alerted to what had happened by Ryan. Joel Stringer was in the Forest of Dean, waiting impatiently for their recurrent anomaly there to fuck right off (his words) and leave them all in peace. She listened to him for a few minutes, reiterated that she was fine, and promised to ring him as soon as she got home. She snuggled back against Finn’s shoulder and said, “He says to tell you he owes you a beer for this one.”

Finn grinned and wriggled like a demented anaconda and produced a battered hip-flask from somewhere in the pockets of his tac vest. “Have some of this, it’ll put hairs on your chest.”

Abby knew from past experience that the soldiers had a habit of stashing some lethal liquor in their kit for what could loosely be described as medicinal purposes. As the fiery liquid burnt a welcome trail down to her stomach, Abby finally began to relax.

She took the flint she’d been given out of her pocket and turned it over in her hand, marvelling at the beautiful symmetry of it. The blood-stained handkerchief she’d given the girl seemed poor by comparison, but she’d seemed pleased by it. That was something that would need to stay out of the report, but fortunately, the chances of a cotton hanky surviving for tens of thousands of years seemed remote.

Abby snuggled up against Finn, doing her best to leave the unpleasantness of the riot behind her.

She wished she could have known the girl for longer, and Abby hoped she’d gone on to lead a long life. From what she’d seen of a Neanderthal, Abby was proud to carry some of their DNA.


End file.
